


a fleeting dream of pomegranates

by rahelawriter



Series: The Starcaller and the Lionheart [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Conversations, F/M, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Heart-to-Heart, Kissing, Love, Memories, Mythology References, Not Beta Read, Past Lives, Pining, Pomegranates, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, References to the Shoebill Theory, Self-affirmation, Spoilers, Whistling, fancy parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rahelawriter/pseuds/rahelawriter
Summary: Once upon a time, a young and innocent maiden crossed paths with a mysterious and handsome stranger, and she was swept away to find herself in a new and unfamiliar world.





	a fleeting dream of pomegranates

**Author's Note:**

> honks in narrative parallels between my ships

The strains of a sweet, serene waltz filled the Eulmoran air. Within the Canopy, a grand gala to celebrate the return of the night sky was in full swing. Inside was warm and jovial, and teeming with people. Outside was breezy and cold, and lonely. As the party's guest of honor, the Warrior of Darkness herself, Rahela knew she should be in there, mingling, making the most of this night, instead of being on the outside and looking in. And she had been. Until…

_ Rahela refused even a single taste of anything alcoholic. When the barkeep offered her a goblet filled with a thick, dark magenta liquid, it instinctively stirred up nasty memories that made her draw back in revulsion. But when she firmly made it clear that she didn’t drink, he reassured her that the goblet was filled with not wine, but pomegranate juice. That stilled her suspicions; with a nod, she took the goblet and held it with both hands. _

_ Rahela had never tasted pomegranate before. Despite her vague awareness that such a fruit existed, she’d never had the chance to try it. But with all the lessons about the fleeting nature of life she'd been hearing lately, she was inspired to seek out new things she’d never done before. That was the whole appeal of adventuring, and there were many different ways to do it, weren’t there? With that, she closed her eyes, and took a long, slow sip… _

_ But as soon as the tart, yet sweet flavor of the juice touched her tongue, she felt weak in the knees. The taste stirred something familiar, deep within the depths of her soul… _

_ The same feeling she had when she'd set foot in Amaurot for the first time in her own life. Something that she felt like she should recognize, but couldn't. Powers that weren't hers. Memories that didn't belong to her…  _

**_Warmth of sunshine… Fragrance of flowers… The spark of creation at her fingertips…_ **

**_The faerie tale of how the god of death had fallen in love with the bringer of rebirth, and stole her away to be his bride._ **

**_The rim of the golden goblet became as soft lips against hers; the liquid, a tongue slipping in to greet hers. She broke the kiss with a sigh, and before her mind’s eye appeared the visage of Emet-Selch-- no, Hades. He bore almost exactly the same face he had worn as Solus zos Galvus, missing only the pearlescent Garlean eye; his hair was longer, with no white streak, and instead of royal robes, he wore the cowl of an Amaurotine. But his voice was very much the same, his words indistinct, perfectly clear in tone. There was none of the haughtiness, hatred, or venom that characterized the Ascian that she'd fought against. No, now his voice was… warm. And sweet. And tender. The backs of his fingers caressed her cheek, his featherlight touch guiding her jaw in an upward tilt for her face to meet his gaze. Of their own volition, her eyes closed, and she leaned towards him, slightly opening her mouth, expecting another kiss…_ **

**_… And what was pressed through her lips was instead a single pomegranate seed. Opening her eyes, she furrowed her brow, scrunched up her nose, and pouted at him._ **

**_A puff of air, followed by the sound of his laughter. Not a trace of malice, only mirth and mischief. "Oh, my dearest Persephone, I couldn't resist…"_ **

_ The shade of Hades vanished, and as if his support were the only thing holding her up, Rahela collapsed to her knees. The goblet slipped out of her hands and fell to the floor, while the pomegranate juice spilled down the front of her dress, staining magenta the expensive pale green fabric.  _

_ Nearby conversations stopped as the crowd turned to look at her in shock and confusion, and those who weren't nearby noticed some disturbance, and looked at her in turn. Among the crowd, Rahela saw her friends rushing to her, calling for her. Their faces full of worry, some of them no doubt recalling the bloody banquet. _

_ That sight shocked her back to reality. Right away, she got to her feet put up her hands in a placating gesture, to reassure them. “N-no, I… S-sorry, so sorry, I, I’m fine, I just… I-I stumbled, and spilled… I, I-need-some-air-please-excuse-me.” _

_ Standing up, cheeks pink as the juice on her dress, she all but ran out of the room. _

The wet stain on her front was cold in the ocean breeze, but that was the furthest thing from her mind. Rahela stood on the Skyfront, trying as best as she could to recover her composure. Staring out into the Kholusian sea, a roiling ‘raven gown’ to match the sky… As beautiful as it was, it could not still her racing thoughts.

"… What just happened?" Rahela muttered to herself. Why did she have a vision like…  _ that?  _ Damn near every interaction she'd had with Emet-Selch brimmed with mutual disgust and contempt. To her, he was the foulest of the Ascians and founding father of the Garlean Empire; the root of so much suffering in both her own life, and in the world at large. And as for who she was to him… Well, his words made that abundantly clear.

_ “Fool. Who are you?” He sneered, voice dripping with hatred. Laughing at her as she was burning alive from the inside out. “No one. Nothing.” _

_ In his words, she heard every single childhood bully who had ever called her ‘slow,’ ‘stupid,’ ‘worthless’… _

_ “You are a broken husk, nothing more.” _

They each loathed the other with their entire beings. So why…? 

Why could she so clearly hear the way he used to laugh, and see the way he used to smile? Why could she so easily imagine the man he once was? And why was she so eager to engage in such intimacy with him…?

And what was this gnawing, empty feeling at her chest?

Staring into the sky held no answers. So instead she looked down to the sea. At whatever, or whoever, might be lurking beneath the surface.

_ "All you need to do is whistle." _

Maybe, just maybe…

Inhaling deeply through the nose as she closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and…

… Breathed out in a long sigh. She hung her head, tempted to slap herself for even considering it. What was she doing? What was she hoping for?

Rahela scratched the back of her head as if to wrack her brain for some way to make sense of what was happening. It was to make sure that Emet-Selch was truly gone. That was it. If he really were dead, then he wouldn’t come when she whistled…

Well, only one way to find out for sure, now.

So she took another long breath, pinched her thumb and forefinger together in her mouth, and blew out as hard as she could, sending a loud, long, and clear whistle through the air and across the ocean… She waited, looked, listened, almost holding her breath…

No response. Just the sound of wind in her ears. The tenseness in her shoulders disappeared, but whether it was from relief or disappointment, she couldn't tell. Of course he wouldn't come back. She impaled him with an aethereal blade (well, axe) that held all the condensed power of every single Lightwarden. And even more important, she didn't  _ want _ him to come back. To rouse him his eternal rest would be tantamount to having him resume his mission to wipe out all life on Hydaelyn. Why would she expect, let alone hope for, anything but silence…?

And then, the sound of claws scraping on wood made her heart lurch, and turn to see what the cause was.

"--Oh." Just a shoebill, landing on the walkway. False alarm. "Sorry if the noise scared you."

It only stared at her with what she presumed was scorn in its eyes. Rahela didn't know why she bothered talking to it, and turned away.

"So that whistle just now was you?"

Thancred's voice piped up out of nowhere, making Rahela nearly jump out of her skin a second time.

"I-I, uh…" She blushed in shame, wrapping her tail around her leg. "Sorry… About before…"

“No, don't be; I know the signs of Echo visions all too well. The others were worried, of course, but I suspected this might be a one-man job." Thancred reassured, moving to stand beside her, joining in her viewing of the sea. He wasn’t in his usual jacket and armor for this fancy party; the Chais (mostly Dulia) had somehow roped the gunbreaker into wearing something more ‘dashing.’ ‘Dashing’ being an adjective that Thancred had not used to describe himself for years, he was a bit reluctant, but settled for a handsome dark blue waistcoat over a black shirt and pants. (Despite her distraction, Rahela noticed with some appreciation that he’d rolled up his shirt sleeves to above his elbows.) 

After a period of slightly awkward silence, he commented, "… That sound carried rather well; all the way over the ocean, I should think. Reminds me of an old faerie tale; the story of a bold young hero from a world long-gone, and a selfless heroine driven by duty. They fell in love, and made a promise that should they get separated, one would whistle, and the other would come running…” 

… Dammit, she had no idea how or why he could always so easily see through her.

“Mm… I know that one," Rahela admitted. "It might actually be one of my favorites. So that was probably why it stuck out in my mind; the way Emet-Selch told me to whistle to summon him, back when we were looking for Y'shtola in the aether.”

"Yes, I understand why you'd be reminded of the story…" Thancred paused, and then frowned. "… But not why you're trying to whistle loud enough to wake the dead."

"O-oh, erm, I…"

His voice softened, but he quirked a brow at her. "I suppose we  _ do _ have some issues regarding our enemies actually  _ staying _ dead, but I suspect it's more than that."

"I, I-I, uh…” 

“Not to worry, dove, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m simply concerned.”

Biting her lip, looking down, seeing the stain of pomegranate on her dress. Hesitating a moment more, she explained slowly, choosing her words carefully. “…That vision I had earlier, what I saw was… I think it was of Hades from before the Sundering. And he was so different, it was almost scary…"

"In what way?"

“He was… really, truly happy. And, I don't know how, but… I think I was seeing him from the perspective of, of his…” Her cheeks went red again, remembering the way her heart raced when they kissed… "His lover…"

She looked away from Thancred, so she didn't see his expression. But the disbelief in his voice told the tale. "…  _ How? _ And  _ why? _ Why on the gods’ green earth would  _ you _ of all people have a vision about being Emet-Selch's  _ lover?" _

“That’s what I wanted to know, too!” And all at once… She remembered her talk with Hythlodaeus. "But I suppose, maybe it’s because… One of those shades in the city said that before the Sundering, I was one of them: an Amaurotine. And… he implied that I was someone important to Emet-Selch, and that he might have recognized my soul… So, I think he might have loved the Amaurotine that my soul used to belong to." The name kept repeating in her mind. "He called her ' _ Persephone…'" _

"… Is that why you were whistling for him? Because you think he might have loved you…?"

"No,  _ no…" _ She shook her head furiously. If Rahela had an entire week, she couldn't list all of Emet-Selch's actions that disqualified the notion that he loved her. If he wanted her to think otherwise, then he failed miserably. “I know what he was. He was a monster and a mass murderer. He was cruel, he was vicious, he was  _ mean… _ He was hellsbent on wiping out all life as we know it. He turned Garlemald into an empire. He approved the Meteor Project. He engineered the Flood of Light. He destroyed eight worlds and caused seven Calamities in ours. He created Vauthry. He shot G’raha, put him through all hells, and tried to use him for evil. He wanted me to turn into a Lightwarden. He tortured us, tormented us, demeaned us, tried to erase us from existence… I should be  _ glad _ that he’s gone. I  _ want  _ to be glad that he’s gone!”

She felt her eyes welling up, and immediately she squeezed them shut, refusing to shed any tears for the Ascian that was the root cause of damn near everything that had gone wrong in her entire life. But she still hung her head.

“So… Why am I  _ not?" _

Thancred was silent, likely trying to think of his own answer. But Rahela had another thought. 

"Is it because of the tie between my soul and his…? If Persephone’s soul was split into fourteen pieces, and I’m one of those pieces, with seven rejoinings, so that makes me… What, eight-fourteenths of her being?" Or rather, nine-fourteenths, now that Ardbert had rejoined with her…? "Was the vision I had one of her memories? Am I feeling the same things she felt for Hades? That same love…?"

A long silence. Only the sound of the wind and ocean filled their ears.

Finally, Thancred had found his words. “Never mind any borrowed memories or feelings; speak from your own. The question is, did  _ you _ love him?”

Did she have to think about it? Immediately she shook her head, “No. Of course not. Never. Not after everything he did; to you all, to me, to the Source, to this world, to all the other worlds that fell…”

“There you have it. Whoever this 'Persephone' was, she's gone now. Even if you do bear traces of her thoughts and feelings, you’re still able to separate them from your own. Keep in mind what Seto said. ‘You are you, and no one else. We are defined not by the soul we are born with, but the path we walk.” Thancred breathed deep, looked her in the eyes, and smiled. “You're not her. No more than Ryne is Minfilia."

Rahela's eyes opened, and she looked to Thancred in wonderment.

He continued, his expression turning somber. "In a way, Hades was like Ran’jit… And, I confess, for too long a time, myself. Tangled within the cruel briars of grief, trapped in the past, unable and unwilling to find a way out, and wholly fixated on the loved ones that he lost…”

“Exactly. So that’s why I… I want to honor his last request. To remember Amaurot, and him… It’s the least I can do. But just going off of my own experience of him, there’s… not much good to remember. So I still want to keep Persephone’s feelings close, too; that way, I can catch a glimpse of Hades as he used to be, before Zodiark turned him into… well, what he became.”

“Mm. Fair enough. All I ask is that you don’t lose yourself in the process of chasing those memories. Alright, dove?”

Another long silence followed. Looking up to the sunless sea, Rahela searched only her own memories, her own feelings… Remembering where she came from, the life she led, those she came after, and the ones she loved… 

Finally, she smiled to herself, and sighed. "I won’t. I couldn’t. I'm just… me. W'rahela Uillces." The daughter of the greatest craftswoman in Cape Deadwind. Student of Cocobuki, Lalai, and Papalymo. Heir to the black magicks of Shatotto. Scion of the Seventh Dawn. Warrior of both Light and Darkness. Proud champion of the star of Hydaelyn and all its shards… 

"Right you are," Thancred nodded in agreement, his tone brimming with fondness. He drew close, putting an arm around her shoulders and hugging her. "And I'll not have you any other way."

“That’s good,” Rahela said, leaning into him. “I wouldn’t be who I am now if I’d never met you.”

A snort. “Don’t give me  _ too _ much credit, now; your rise to glory was entirely yours. Need I remind you of the stolen crown?”

“And I might never have picked up my staff again if you hadn’t convinced me to. Back then, I was scared that people like Lolorito would want me dead for trying to do the right thing. I’ll never forget the day you invited me into the Scions.” Even now, the memory made her grin. “You showered me with praise, telling me how amazing and remarkable I was, things that I’d never heard anyone say to me in my entire life, saying you were  _ quite taken with me _ …”

Thancred’s smile turned sheepish, and he shrugged. 

“It was like you were sweeping me off my feet and whisking me away into a completely different world.”

“Hold on, now, that’s romanticizing the whole thing a tinge…”

“Yeah, maybe.” Of course, she was convinced of the difficulties of life as a Scion almost immediately. But she stuck with them, and they stuck with her, and the rest was history. “But, my point is… You were with me from the beginning. And I want us to stay together. Until the end.”

A pause. Thancred stared at her, and a corner of his lips turned upwards. Rahela’s tail fluffed up as her fiancé’s hand gently cupped her cheek. He leaned in close, and rumbled, “Not ‘until the end’…”

“Ah—!” A gasp of surprise was all she could get out before he stole her breath with a kiss. Slow and soft and sweet, a different kind of tenderness from what she felt in her earlier Echo. She couldn’t put it into words, besides the simple fact that this was  _ hers, _ and not someone else’s. 

Their lips parted. He nuzzled her forehead against hers, and whispered, “...  _ Always. _ ”

Lost in a pleasant, post-kiss haze, she purred. “Mmm… Always, then…”

They stood together awhile longer, her leaning into him, each with an arm around the other, watching the night sky. She pointed out a shooting star to him with a rather dopey grin. Moments later, the sounds of the string quintet and piano playing inside changes; they’d started a new song.

“I think I’m ready to go back in.” Breaking from the easy hug, Rahela squeezed his hand in both of hers, and then began pulling him along with her back into the Canopy. “I wanna dance before the night’s done!”

“Dance?” Thancred’s tone suddenly grew flustered, stumbling as her pulling turned into something that more closely resembled dragging. “Might I at least suggest a change in clothes first?”

“I’m the Warrior of Darkness!” Rahela declared. “Who’s going to yell at the Warrior of Darkness over a stained dress?”

“And what of her dance partner?”

“Light on your feet as you are, no way you’re not a great dancer!”

“I genuinely can’t remember the last time I danced.”

“You’ll be fine. Come on.”

“Excellent, I am immediately reassured,” he deadpanned, and then made a show of sighing. “Very well. The others have been needing more reasons to bully me mercilessly in front of my daughter.”

From a distance, the shoebill’s expression was unreadable as it stared after the two souls. When they were out of sight, it slowly turned away, and leapt off the Skyfront, gliding off into the night. It understood.

The bringer of rebirth had been snatched away again, not by the god of death, but by a thief hiding the heart of a lion.

**Author's Note:**

> HONKING INTENSIFIES


End file.
